


Wunderkind

by lilija_the_red



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Usage, Bonding, Gen, Modern AU, One Shot, Underage Drinking, for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4742285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilija_the_red/pseuds/lilija_the_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras can’t remember how exactly he ended up on the balcony of Courfeyrac’s apartment at 2 a.m. with Grantaire’s little sister Lucy. He also can’t remember how they started killing several shots and ended up sharing not only a bottle of rasberry vodca but also their life stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wunderkind

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to be a part in a bigger project but I'm afraid I'll never come around to actually write it? At least not in the near future  
> So enjoy!

Enjolras can’t remember how exactly he had ended up on the balcony of Courfeyrac’s apartment at 2 a.m. with Grantaire’s little sister Lucy. He also couldn’t remember how they'd started killing several shots and ended up sharing not only a bottle of rasberry vodca but also their life stories.  
He, however, did know how he had gotten to Courfeyrac’s party and how he'd fled to the balcony from said party. Not a birthday party or anything like that. It was simply a party. Because apparently- “I feel like throwing a party! Who needs reasons anyway? I want to throw a party! And you, Enjolras, are forced to come!” - Who needs reasons when you are Courfeyrac anyway? Grantaire had laughed, clasping Courfeyrac’s shoulder and promised him he’d make Enjolras come. 

“He’ll be there, Courf, no worries! I’ll take care of it.” 

As if he wouldn’t have gone without Grantaire forcing him to… Okay, he might had tried to avoid it but - anyway, he was there now, wasn’t he? And that although he hadn’t felt much like partying, lately. And apparently Lucy didn’t either. So it had happened that the two of them found themselves both hiding from the joyous party, outside on the same small balcony.  
She pulled out a cigarette from inside of her red leather jacket. A little zippo followed and soon a dim red shone at the end of Lucy’s cigarette. Enjolras cocked an eyebrow. 

“What?” Lucy asked, blowing out the smoke through her half opened mouth. 

“You know that this shit will kill you someday?” 

Lucy laughed. “Like all the alcohol we just drank? Wouldn’t have taken you for a drinker in a thousand years though, little ballet boy. Besides”, she started pulling at her cigarette and watching the smoke disappear, “what will not kill us at the end of the day?”  
Enjolras couldn’t help but laugh.  
“Anyway, pass the bottle, ballet boy. It’s my turn.” He handed it to her without further comment, a small smile hidden as he looked up to the stars.

They sat silent for a while. When Lucy suddenly started talking her voice was very small, almost distant. 

“They wanted me to dance as well, you know. Right from the start they planned on turning me into the perfect ballerina. Private lessons, countless teachers from all over europe - from the moment I could barely walk they dropped me off at my first ballet lesson -” She fell silent. Enjolras didn’t dare to speak, so he had to wait for her to continue on her own.

“Can.. can you imagine how disappointed they were when they found out I wasn’t even barely talented? Years of training. Gone to waste. Years, until they realized I wasn’t even barely talented. Even longer until they accepted that I would never be their perfect prima ballerina. Would never dance on big stages. Would never be the perfect china doll to show off to their rich friends. I lacked coordination, balance, grace. I can still hear Madame’s voice : ‘No grâce! No grâce!’.” Lucy was almost shouting now, her face clouded by the hurtful memory. Enjolras handed her the bottle and watched her taking a big gulp. “Thanks”, she said handing it back. “So, when they finally decided I was a lost cause, they let me change subjects. 'If the athletic section isn’t hers, maybe she’ll shine in the musical one?’ my mother used to say. But she was still bitter that I couldn’t fulfil her dream of becoming a prima ballerina. But hey, I can’t say I’m really sorry about it, so that’s that.” She stomped out her cigarette and flipped it off the balcony into the dark street below. “But to no ones surprise I couldn’t be her Wunderkind in the music section either. But in the end I was decent enough. That’s what she said. Decent. Bearable. Not enough, god forbid! But even the worst player can sound like a musician with just enough private lessons. I should know. - fuck the bottle is empty! Damn.” 

The sound of a door being shut soundly, made both Enjolras and Lucy jump.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know that there was a private party going on outside here.”

The second the man spoke, Lucy was on her feet and as much as threw herself at the guy. 

“Brother dearest! Sorry I stole your boyfriend, and I’m afraid to tell you but”, she leaned in an attempt to whisper, “ I think he likes me more than you.” She turned around and winked at Enjolras, who only laughed while slowly shaking his head. “You are a lucky guy, brother, that I prefer brunettes to blond greek gods! So he’s all yours. We ran out of booze, anyway. See you later, Enjolras! It was a good talk.” 

“Thought so, too. Take care.” 

“Will do.” With that the door fell shut again, leaving Grantaire and Enjolras alone in the warm night. Grantaire silently walked over to the railing coming to a stop next to Enjolras. Enjolras stood up carefully, already feeling the alcohol turning his stomach around.

This way they stood there at the railing, not talking not touching but staring into the distance feeling the heat radiating from the other’s body. Grantaire was the first to break the silence. 

“She lied, you know”, Grantaire finally said, snipping his cigarette down the balcony. Enjolras looked up at him, a questioning look on his face but Grantaire’s eyes were glued to some lights far off in the city. “I heard the last bit of your conversation. Sorry about eavesdropping on you, but I think the drinks have worked a little too well on you two. None of you even startled when I opened the door, the first time. Not used to that kind of stuff, huh?” Grantaire chuckled quietly. Picking up one empty bottle, he turned towards Enjolras, who now leaned against the railing, his arms crossed in front of his chest, a smirk sitting on his face. 

“You think?” Enjolras’ smirk deepened.

“Anyway. She lied.” 

“About what? Your parents?” Grantaire shook his head, his face stoic. 

“Nah, they literally are the gigantic assholes as which she described them. No”, Grantaire stopped talking and Enjolras watched Grantaire bowing his head, the eyes kept shut. A sudden urge to hug Grantaire hit him. (He kept his arms close around himself.) Just when Enjolras was afraid, Grantaire would remain silent forever, he started again. 

“No, she lied about her lack of talent. She always has. She has never been a dancer, that’s true. But, Enjolras, the things she can do with an instrument, the beauty she can create with tunes… that’s magic, I tell you! She has always claimed to hate playing, but what she’s never known is that I know how much she really loved it. I often used to sneak into the piano room, when she thought she was alone. She was just fooling around, not following any guideline dictated by a book, ignoring the stuff her stupid teacher had forced upon her every fucking day. She simply played, free from everything. And she was happy. I loved hearing her play like that. It really was - was like magic! What colour and paint is to an artist, the tunes and notes were for her. She could tell stories. She seemed alive. More alive than ever! But mother and father never saw that. They always shamed her for leaving the guide lines, for thinking freely, for playing it wrong. Stupid bastards. They wouldn’t see beauty if you bound it to their faces. Otherwise they’d have seen Lucy as she really was - is. But they never could, and probably never will. She hasn’t touched a piano in years, you know. I know she misses it. I know how much I missed dancing this one year.” 

“Why Hasn’t she started playing again?” 

“She can’t.” 

Enjolras didn’t understand but Grantaire simply shook his head. “It’s complicated. You probably wouldn’t understand. I barely can. But I can tell you as much: they corrupted it. They cut her off when you should never cut off a child.” 

Enjolras’ eyes wandered from Grantaire’s face - a wild gleam of pure fury blazing in his eyes - over to his hands, holding onto the railing as if his life depended on it. Grantaire’s voice was thick with hatred. 

“They scarred her. Playing is just too painful for her.”

Enjolras waited but Grantaire didn’t seem like he wanted to continue. After some moments Enjolras turned around facing the city again. He bumped his shoulder against Grantaire’s. Enjolras waited for Grantaire to react when he finally felt the weight of a head being leaned against his shoulder. He could feel Grantaire’s body slowly relaxing against his own. 

“I hate them for what they did to her.” 

Grantaire talked about what they had done to Lucy, but Enjolras couldn’t help but wonder: What did they do to Grantaire?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys!  
> Nice of you to stop by, if you like leave a comment behind <3


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